


Heart in Hand

by Fictionista654



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur cannot handle the information that Merlin has a sex life, Coming Out, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: “You’re Merlin’s friend, aren’t you?” Arthur says to Gwaine, who’s seated on a stool in the armory, inspecting his shield and eating an apple.“Why?” says Gwaine, looking up from the dent he’s prodding. “Is he in trouble?”“He’s not in trouble,” Arthur says a little too sharply. Gwaine raises his eyebrows, his face clearly saying,That’s not what it sounds like, mate.Arthur sighs. “He is in trouble, but that’s not why I’m here. Did you know Merlin liked men?”





	Heart in Hand

The thing was, Arthur never really thought of Merlin as being a sexual creature. Maybe it was self-centered, and patronizing, and royally prattish, but he’d sort of assumed that whenever Merlin wasn’t with Arthur, he was, oh, making daisy chains or curing children of their sniffles or any other number of useless, slightly adorable things. 

Not…this. Arthur is frozen at the top of the stairs, peering through the slight opening between Merlin’s bedroom door and the frame. He can’t see much, but he can hear, and that’s definitely Merlin’s voice going, “You’re beautiful, aren’t you? so beautiful for me, so perfect. That’s it, like that, like that—” Arthur flushes violently.

But Arthur shouldn’t feel embarrassed—he’s the king! His manservant is late for work! It Arthur’s right—his _duty_ —to make sure that Merlin stays in line.

“That’s enough,” he says, barging into the room. “You’re late for…” But his words trail off at the sight before him. 

“Arthur!” gasps Merlin, rolling off his bedfellow and pulling the covers up to his chest as if he’s some sort of blushing maiden. Which Arthur thought he was, up to a minute ago. “What are you doing in here!” 

“S-sire,” says the _man_ in Merlin’s bed. Arthur thinks he may be a stablehand, but he’s not sure. Distantly, Arthur is amused at the man’s indecision: does he get out of bed in order to bow, and therefore reveal himself to the king, or does he stay in bed and risk impertinence? Merlin has no such problem. He’s already gotten over his second’s modesty, and is lounging back, the blanket slipping off one angular hip.

“I see you found better things to do than come to work this morning,” Arthur says to the the cabinet.

“I did,” Merlin says cheerfully. “Any chance I could finish up?”

“Merlin.”

“All right, all right. You’d better go, Harold.”

“Er…Your Majesty,” Harold says. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur can see him pulling on his trousers. “I apologize to the utmost. I did not mean to offend.”

“Obviously,” Arthur says tightly. “Now go. I need to have a word with my manservant.” Harold bobs his head and, with one last nervous look at Merlin, thunders down the stairs.

“You can look now,” Merlin says dryly. Arthur does, and immediately wishes he hadn’t. Merlin’s got his trousers on, but he’s still shirtless, and his wiry upper-body glistens with sweat. “Not sure what the big deal is,” continues Merlin, looking under his bed for something. “I see you naked in the bath all the time.”

“It’s really not the same thing.”

“It really is.” Merlin sits on the edge of his bed to lace his boots, his full lips pursed in concentration. The lips that, a minute ago, had been mouthing at another man’s—Arthur’s hands go weak, and he clenches them.

“I didn’t know,” Arthur says, but he falters under Merlin’s cool gaze. “I didn’t know you preferred men.”

Merlin laughs disbelievingly, the dimple in his chin jumping mockingly. “And that’s your business, is it?” 

Arthur crosses his arms. “You’re my servant. Everything you do is my business.”

Disbelief turns to outrage. “I’m my own person, you know. My whole life doesn’t revolve around you.” Merlin storms over to Arthur—no, he’s going for the cupboard. Arthur, being the king, refuses to move, making Merlin wiggle behind him to get to his clothes. Up close, Merlin smells like sweat and musk and _sex_. Arthur is suddenly breathless.

“You’re on my payroll, Merlin,” he says with as much bored detachment as he can muster. “If you wanted a fuck, you should have done it in the night like the rest of the servants.”

Merlin slams the cupboard and turns on Arthur, his crisp blue eyes burning. “You mean in between polishing your armor, and sharpening your sword, and writing your speeches? Because that’s what I did all last night, you arse. And I was what, ten minutes late? The last time you woke up this early, the sun rose in the west!” 

It was true that Arthur had woken unusually early today, but that didn’t excuse Merlin’s tardiness. Or his cheek. “You can’t talk to me like that.”

“Or what?” says Merlin, tugging on his shirt and regrettably covering his lean stomach and the sharp hipbones poking out above his trousers. 

“Or…or this.” Arthur digs his hands in Merlin’s shoulders and shoves him against the wall. Their noses are inches apart. At first, Arthur thinks Merlin’s afraid—his pupils are blown, his mouth is open, his breaths are short and fast—but then Merlin gives the tiniest moan, and Arthur gets it.

He _gets it_. 

“Right.” He releases Merlin abruptly and backs up to the door. “Take a bath. You reek of the stables.” Merlin looks absurdly confused, his head cocked to one side. Likely he has whiplash from this whole situation, just like Arthur. He does call out Arthur’s name when Arthur’s halfway down the stairs, but besides that, he doesn’t say anything else or chase after Arthur. 

Arthur can’t decide if he’s disappointed or not, but at least he knows who to go to. “You’re Merlin’s friend, aren’t you?” he says to Gwaine, who’s seated on a stool in the armory, inspecting his shield and eating an apple.

“Why?” says Gwaine, looking up from the dent he’s prodding. “Is he in trouble?”

“He’s not in trouble,” Arthur says a little too sharply. Gwaine raises his eyebrows, his face clearly saying, _That’s not what it sounds like, mate._ Arthur sighs. “He is in trouble, but that’s not why I’m here. Did you know Merlin liked men?”

Gwaine snorts so hard that Arthur nearly jumped. “Did I know?” he crows. “Who do you think deflowered him?”

“You…you…”

Gwaine throws back his head with laughter. “No, but you should’ve seen your face.” He sobers. “Merlin was no virgin when I bedded him.”

“So you did sleep together?” Arthur says, feeling a sudden urge to sit down.

“A few times,” says Gwaine. “Is there a problem with that? You think it unnatural?” A current of danger runs through his words.

“No,” says Arthur. “Of course not. It’s not—it’s just as natural as anything else. It’s—I don’t know. Just don’t do it again.”

Gwaine looks suddenly satisfied. “Oh, so that’s how it is.”

Arthur is starting to feel the emotional equivalent of missing the bottom step on a staircase. “How what is?” 

“Still, just because you’ve finally found your feelings for him doesn’t mean you get dibs.” 

“What?” Arthur’s mouth drops open. “I don’t have feelings for Merlin! He’s the most aggravating, annoying, incompetent servant in the Five Kingdoms!” 

“Handsome, too,” says Gwaine, taking a rag from the floor and wiping at his shield. “And a firecracker in bed.”

It’s morbid curiosity, nothing more, that leads Arthur to repeat, “A firecracker? Merlin?”

“Oh, the things he can do with that tongue,” says Gwaine, checking his appearance in his shield. “Village boys, you know? And the girls, too. There’s nothing to do besides milk the cows, so they have to find other ways to have fun.” He winks lasciviously. “If you know what I mean.”

Arthur sits, slowly, on the stool across from Gwaine’s. He knows he should leave, that he shouldn’t indulge Gwaine’s penchant for dirty stories, especially not when they’re about Merlin, but he’s frozen to this room. His mind literally cannot comprehend that the Merlin who wakes him up with a goofy “rise and shine!” and who trips over his own feet can also be an apparent sex god.

“Merlin’s not as bad in bed as he at everything else?” says Arthur, trying to make it a joke. It falls flat.

“Merlin is _lovely_ in bed,” says Gwaine, catching Arthur’s eye. “Gives and takes in equal measure. By the end, you would do anything for him. He could a charm the cock off a conman.”

“All right,” Arthur says hastily. “That’s enough. Thank you for the information, Gwaine.”

“Anytime, majesty. Anytime.”

***

It’s sort of like when you’re unhappy and everyone else suddenly seems crammed with sunbeams and roses, Arthur decides. Only in this case, happy people are people whom Merlin has bedded. Harold, Gwaine, two guards, the cook’s apprentice, the cobbler, the cobbler’s apprentice, the cobbler’s apprentice’s brother—there’s no end to it. 

“You’re certain?” Arthur says to Cora, one of the castle chambermaids. She looks up from her handful of coin he’s given her and nods.

“Tim and Tom had a dreadful row about it. You should have seen it when they asked Merlin to pick between them! He hadn’t realized they were brothers, and his face was all—”

Cora mimes strangled shock.

“—and he said that he was dreadfully sorry, but he didn’t think he would bed either of them again.” 

“They fought over him?” Arthur says numbly. “They asked him to pick?”

“Oh, yes,” Cora says, sliding the coin into her apron pocket. “I mean, he’s very good. When I slept with him—”

“Hang on,” says Arthur. “You slept with him, too?”

“Sometimes a woman will catch his eye,” Cora says, a little proudly. “Not as often, but we live in perpetual hope.”

“Perpetual hope? That Merlin will sleep with you?”

“Well, we’re not desperate,” says Cora, lowering her voice as a group of squires pass the alcove Arthur’s met her in. “Lots of other men about. But Merlin’s like…like wine from the king’s table. Silky and burning and delectable.”

Arthur feels a little sick. “W-what makes him so good?”

Cora’s eyes are vague and dreamy as she answers. “He looks you in the eye during it, and his thumb strokes your cheek.” She brings her hand to her face to demonstrate. “It’s like being swallowed whole by his attention. And he’s so funny. No one’s ever made me laugh during sex before. Somehow it makes everything that much better. And his face. It’s so beautiful. He makes this expression, when he’s com—”

“Thank you!” Arthur says loudly. “That will be all, Cora.” When she leaves, he leans back against the wall and tries to slow his breathing. He can actually feel the blood rushing to places it’s not supposed to be. He tugs his tunic out of his trousers and fans it, trying to cool down.

“Arthur?” 

Arthur jumps, nearly banging his head on the wall. “Gwen!” he says. “How are you?”

She frowns at him, adjusting the stack of linens in her arm. “I’m fine. Are you all right? You seem a bit feverish.”

“Me?” Arthur joins her in the hall, forcing a laugh. “I’m fine.” They start off down the corridor together, Gwen sneaking bewildered looks at him. 

“Are you sure?” she says.

“Merlin!” he blurts. Gwen laughs in confusion.

“What?”

“I know you’re with Lance now, but I was wondering, er.” Arthur stumbles, not sure where to go next.

“Oh, Arthur.” Gwen shifts the laundry and touches a sympathetic hand to his arm. “I also miss what we had, but Lance is the one for me.”

“No,” says Arthur hastily. “It’s not that. I meant. Have you ever slept with Merlin?”

Gwen actually drops the linen to clap her hands over her mouth. “What?”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, glancing around to make sure they’re alone. “I know when he first came to Camelot, there was something between you. Or, I thought there was. Maybe there was. Was there?”

“No,” Gwen says firmly. “Nothing between us. Just good friends.” She gathers the laundry back up, looking thoughtful. “Why?” 

Arthur coughs. “I was just wondering.”

“He doesn’t sleep with his friends,” Gwen says, and Arthur’s head jerks up.

“What?”

“His rules,” Gwen says, a little embarrassed. “Not that we were ever going to sleep together. But even if we had wanted to, his rules would have gotten in the way. No sleeping with friends, and no sleeping with the same person more than three times.”

“Why not?”

“His heart is given to another,” Gwen says softly. “I think he doesn’t want to be unfaithful, even if this person will never love him back.”

“Merlin’s in love?” Arthur says. There is a lump in his throat. “With whom?”

“You should ask him. And now I really must be seeing to these sheets.” With one last pat to Arthur’s arm, Gwen disappears around the corner.

***

Two, Arthur decides, can play at this game. The next morning, when Merlin yanks back Arthur’s bed-curtains, it’s to find Lady Isolde in his bed.

“Good morning,” she says as she nuzzle sleepily into Arthur’s arm. Merlin’s eyes crinkle when he laughs.

“Morning. Shall I fetch some extra breakfast?”

Arthur isn’t sure what reaction he expected, but it wasn’t this. Disappointed, he pulls his pillow over his head.

After Isolde, it’s Mary; and then Marie; and then Susan; and then Mary and Marie together; and then Susan again; and then Isolde once more; and then Isolde’s cousin, also named Isolde. And Merlin refuses to be phased.

“Not so polite of you, is it?” Merlin says on a rare morning when Arthur has no one in his bed. “Stringing these girls along when they’re just a means to an end?”

Arthur props himself up on an elbow and tosses one of his pillows at Merlin. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You’re mad at me,” Merlin says, kicking the pillow out of the way. “This all started after Harold. I think you’re trying to get back at me, but I’m not sure how you think this will get that done. You’re not embarrassing me. I’ve seen worse than a handful of quims.”

“I’m not trying to get back at you,” Arthur says hoarsely. “I’m taking my pleasure as I see fit. Just like you.”

“So I inspired you?” Merlin says with a crooked smile. He’s retrieving Arthur’s jerkin from the wardrobe, and Arthur is suddenly reminded of Merlin grabbing clothes from his own cupboard that fateful morning. For some reason, this is a very distracting thought. 

“Bring me my breakfast,” Arthur says. Merlin looks from him to the table.

“It’s right there, Arthur. Is there something wrong with your legs?”

No, there is nothing wrong with Arthur’s legs. But there is definitely something wrong _between_ them. Any other time, he’d pass it off as morning wood, but he doesn’t quite fancy doing that quite so fast after this conversation. Somehow, he thinks Merlin would see right through him to—to what? 

“Is there something wrong with _your_ legs?” Arthur counters. “You’re my servant, after all. You’re supposed to serve me.” 

Merlin huffs and snatches the tray from the table. “Here you go, Your Majesty.” He tries to steal a sausage with one hand as he puts it down on the bed with the other, but Arthur snatches the offending wrist before Merlin can walk away.

“Taking my food again, Merlin?” He squeezes, and the sausage drops back to the platter.

“You’re such an arse,” Merlin says, almost fondly. “Er, are you going to let go?”

Arthur looks down at Merlin’s hand. It’s as wiry as the rest of his body, calloused from manual labour, and somehow unbearably beautiful. He looks back from the hand to Merlin’s face, and pain, actual pain, run along the nerves from Arthur’s groin to the tips of his fingers.

“Arthur?” Merlin says. His cheeks are pink, and without thinking about it, Arthur reaches up to stroke one of those sharp cheekbones. Where a girl’s skin would be soft and fuzzy, Merlin’s is rough and scratchy. Arthur can feel the muscles in Merlin’s face contract when he swallows. 

“Come here,” Arthur says unevenly, and tugs Merlin to lie on top of him. They are separated only by the blanket and Merlin’s clothes. Driven by instinct, Arthur rolls his hips, and Merlin’s eyes flutter. The platter crashes from the bed to the floor, but when Merlin automatically moves to get it, Arthur shakes his head. For a while, they lie there, staring at each other.

“What do you want?” Merlin says finally. “Is this a game to you, Arthur? Messing with your gay manservant? Because if it is…”

“No!” Arthur puts his hands on either side of Merlin’s face. “If you don’t want this, then you can walk away. But don’t walk away because you think I’m playing at something, Merlin.”

“Then what are you doing?” Merlin punctuates his question with a thrust downward, and Arthur has to turn his head to the side at the wave of pleasure cresting within him.

“Seducing you,” he manages. “I’m—ah!—seducing you!”

“Really?” Merlin says, his lips against Arthur’s, his breath hot. “I think you’ll have to be a little more persuasive.”

“I was jealous!” Arthur cries, as Merlin forces his leg between Arthur’s. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize, but I was jealous, I was so jealous, oh gods, Merlin, you have to slow down.”

Merlin sits back, and Arthur reaches for him, but Merlin shakes his head. “No. I want to look at you.” Slowly, Merlin pulls back the blanket. “Oh.” It’s little more than a breath. “You want me.”

“Do you have to be an idiot, now of all times?” Arthur grits out. “Yes, I bloody want you.”

“All right,” Merlin says, taking Arthur in his hand. “I suppose you can have me.”

***

They’re both naked, both lying in the wet spot and too lazy to move. Arthur has his head on Merlin’s chest, which is rising and falling with the deep, contented breaths of someone who has just completed an intense and immensely satisfying bout of lovemaking. His fingers, strong and sure, are running through Arthur’s hair. 

“Do you know how happy you make me?” Arthur says sleepily. 

“Who knew you got sweet after sex?” Merlin says, tugging up the blanket to cover their sweat-soaked skin from the draught. 

“Tell anyone, and I’ll kill you.”

“And then who would give you the best sex of your life?”

Arthur shifts, remembering Gwen’s words. “This will happen more than thrice, won’t it?”

“More than…Gwen told you my rules?” Arthur doesn’t answer. “Arthur, do you know why I have those rules?”

“Gwen said you’d given your heart to another.”

“ _You,_ you prat! I’m in love with _you_!”

“Oh, good,” says Arthur, burying his face into Merlin’s neck to hide his relief. “Because I’m in love with you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
